


From the Horse's Mouth

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-03
Updated: 2002-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-20 07:51:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	From the Horse's Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

From the Horse's Mouth

## From the Horse's Mouth

#### by Wildy

From the Horse's Mouth   
by Wildy  
  
COMMENTS: Not without a lawyer, thank you much. 'I was drugged.' 

* * *

I love the way this happened. I don't understand it, though. Last I know, I knew nothing. 

Funny: you spend an active, profitable, shortish life as the best data thief around... then you wake up dead with not a clue in hell. About anything. Death is strange, like having a million eyes and no brain to care about what they see. I had been floating in the nice void minding my own business and loving it. 

Then I met God and I knew too much again. God is a sick bastard. Believe me. Sick fucking sadistic.... Grrrr. 

So this feeling pops out of the void and pokes me. Hard. Mulder needs me. 

I'm damned if I'll say 'uh' to that, so I don't say anything. I am not going anywhere with this. Mulder is fried and unpredictable, and he was glad when I died. Also, he's crazy. The crazies are dangerous. You can't plan ahead, because even they don't know what they're going to do. 

Yeah, I'm already dead. I have noticed. But it's no reason to get sloppy. Who knows what else Mulder could take from me if he tried? 

The feeling pokes harder. Now it hurts, and now I'm pissed off. 

'Didn't you hear me the first time, Mulder? I'm not coming. If you want to see me that bad -- well, you can go to hell.' 

Heh. 

I barely have time to smirk at that before something goes pop and I am sucked inside-out into a pretty good avatar of my real live self. Even it it's only a tiny reverse picture on Mulder's retina, projected in front of him by that fine, cracked brain of his. He looks at me feverishly. 

Armani never looked as good on him as does that bright orange, baggy outfit. 

'You must help me, Krycek.' 

The nerve on the guy. I must. I must sweet fuckall. I owe Mulder nothing. Death clears all debts. Or it should. If the bastard weren't psychic I'd just go into absentee mode, that would teach him. But he sees me, worse luck. I'd sigh, if I were breathing. 

Mulder. 

'What kind of help could I possibly give you here? I'm not real and you're jailed for murder.' 

'You're dead. It's how you can help me. The dead know things, right? Like the meaning of life?' 

'If this is about your sister again --' 

'No. No, I've made my peace with that. I just... I would --' 

He's ... blushing? I'll be... hem. 

'Krycek? Did you, ah, meet God?' 

That knocks me on my ectoplasmic ass. Fox Mulder and God? Cod and strawberries? Scully and motherhood?... Oh. Yeah. Shit. I guess anything can happen. And I guess God is to blame, in this particular case. Fucker. 

'I did, Mulder. I met God. And God is an asshole. You don't want anything to do with him, believe me. Believe me.' 

He frowns at me. 

'Why not?' 

'Well, he has bottle blond curls and dimples, one. And I asked him why I had to die like that and why you don't l --' 

Bite my tongue. If I had one. Mulder didn't notice, thank -- whatever. He forges on. 

'I want to know the meaning of my life. Why everything. They are going to kill me and I want to know!' 

Funny. That was my question too. Worse, I got an answer. 

'No, you don't. Please, just this once, trust me, Mulder. You don't.' 

He looks cagey and calculating and oh so foxy. Damn. 

'Krycek, if you tell me... I'll look for you when I get there. Shit, I'll even, um, kiss you. Or something. I know you want that. You always did.' 

Argh. 

'This is a true catch-22, Mulder. If I tell you what God told me, you will never look at me again, before or after death. It's too horrible.' 

'Nothing,' Mulder decrees, 'can be more horrible than what I went through. The suffering, the losses, the heartbreaks, the murders, the abductions, the lies, the --' 

I have to whistle six eerie, creepy notes to stop him. He stares at me, blinking. 

'I loved in vain, got beaten up and oiled and reviled and mutilated and murdered like a dog, Mulder. We're even on victimization. And when I asked Botox Boy why, he said --' 

I sigh. 

I take a deep breath. I remember the swaggering bastard and his supercilious ways and his all-powerful grip on my life and hopes and heart, curse him, and recite for my -- for Mulder: 

'He said, I quote: 'What explains what in the manner in which that explains that is that which is what when it comes to it.' That's what he said.' 

I add over my shoulder: 

'Those were God's last words too, because I ice-picked the bastard's neck for him. God is dead, Mulder -- and his blood was green. See you after the show, friend. I owe you a kiss.' 

And I vanish from the screen of life for the last time. 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Wildy 


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